


Grave States

by FrostPrince



Category: Oxenfree
Genre: Alex escaped the island, Gen, Jonas is still her stepbrother, Starts two days after the events of the game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-02-01 17:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12709128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostPrince/pseuds/FrostPrince
Summary: “Stay home. Stay...safe.”…So. She was, like, basically cursed.





	1. Chapter 1

According to Alex, the worst things in life were, in order of least to most awful: the Edwards Island incident, getting rocks stuck in her shoe, her parents’ divorce, her brother’s death, and manual labour. She kept the first spot open for those in-the-moment grievances. ‘Cause yes, she was fundamentally petty, so _what?_

“You sure it isn’t too heavy?” Jonas asked her.

The last thing Alex wanted packaged together with the sun’s rays trying to sabotage her breathing was his totally uncalled for lack of faith. Once upon a time, she’d walked around an entire island and jumped a fricking _chasm_. He’d _seen_ all that. What more did he want?

“Positive,” she chimed, hoisting the box to emphasize how not-heavy it was. Even though every step up the stairwell was a step towards dropping the stupid thing and losing a foot or her dignity (no, wait, she’d already lost that, nevermind). But anyway, she was fine. She was _fine_.

Alex narrowly avoided tripping on the rubber lining as she rammed through the front door like the most physically deformed bull to ever exist. It was her umpteenth return trip into her house...no, _their_ house. “Their” with a capital _Together forever or until she headed to whichever unfortunate college accepted the thunderstorm that was her existence_. It was amazing how much Jonas had been able to pack in a day. It seemed impossible that everything in every box belonged to him alone. Maybe he’d packed some of his dad’s stuff, too. Alex didn’t know if that was sweet or neurotic. Maybe both. He’d been more productive the day after the island incident than her, at least.

Another staircase challenged her. Alex’s footsteps rang through the intergalactic void of her house as she made her way up. Ha-ha, _steps_ , it was funny ‘cause…’cause stepbrother. ...Alex cringed internally. But yeah. New stepbrother. That was a thing. And new stepfather. She’d actually spoken to her former-mom’s-boyfriend-and-now-stepfather a few times before the wedding, but awkwardly bonding over their shared love for Alex’s mom somehow didn’t compare to being with her stepbrother for 12 solid hours and saving each other’s lives.

Aaand third time’s the charm, or some other pretentious bullcrap. Alex was positive that didn’t apply to staircases, but she headed up the last one to the attic anyway and hesitated only twice, once to adjust the box in her hands.

The tent-shaped space smelled of dust and neglect. Basically the same thing. The hum of electricity died down enough that Alex could make out the blood rushing in her ear.

Her heart sped up. She rubbed her eyes. Ugh. Dust.

The distant slam of Jonas’ pickup truck’s door shot through Alex’s body like a harpoon. She dropped the box on the ground next to Mich- _Jonas_ ’ bed, and plopped herself down on said bed.

“That’s the last one!” Jonas called. His voice reverberated through the house in waves, sparking life in every crevice.

Waves…

Jonas popped into view seconds later. He gently placed the last box next to Alex’s and swiped at his forehead. His brown hair poked out through his crap brown beanie. How he could wear that in this weather, Alex didn’t…

She eyed the red of her long-sleeved jacket and took it back. She knew.

Jonas sat on the ground, cross-legged and hands planted behind him.

“Um, you’re not, like, a dog with a loose bladder or whatever,” Alex chuckled, raising an eyebrow. She patted the space next to her. “You deserve better.”

Jonas looked at the bed like he was scrutinizing someone’s fashion sense, but nonetheless got up and positioned himself next to her with nerve-wracking restraint. Their legs brushed. Alex didn’t flinch.

“Thanks for, um, well, everything,” Jonas piped up, adjusting his hat and side-eyeing her. “You were cool with, like, the whole thing.’

A flash: her and Jonas. The pier. Lit cigarettes and gratitude.

“Of course,” Alex replied, facing him head-on. She fiddled with a button on her jacket, ignoring the beads of sweat dripping down her arms and caressing her with the grace of crawling spiders. “I can’t pass an opportunity to represent women around the world with my ability to kick box-shaped ass.”

“I wanna make a joke about boxing but don’t know how to word it,” Jonas droned. He stood up and stretched the aches out of him. “But, I mean, thanks for, you know, all _this_.” He gestured around him, holding his entire world in the palm of his hand and his heart on his sleeve. “I know this was super sudden and it might feel like I’m imposing on existence as you know it, and…”

“Jonas, really, I _get_ _it_ ,” Alex assured him. The sunlight streaming through the window across the room cast Jonas’ shadow onto the bed next to her. “I...I would’ve done the same thing. I wouldn’t wanna be alone either after...like, yeah.”

Jonas nodded. He eyed around the room like her gaze was a Jonas-brand repellent, patent pending.

Alex’s chest pocket buzzed. She heard somewhere that phones could cause heart attacks by being too close to the chest, but if Edwards Island couldn’t start one, her phone didn’t have a ghost of a chance. In hell. While riding a unicycle.

Ghost…

Alex pulled her phone out and glanced at the screen.

“What is it?” Jonas asked.

“It’s my mom,” Alex answered. _Our_ mom. That thought gave Alex goosebumps and she wasn’t sure why.

“They still doing...whatever fun, outdated things adults do on honeymoons?” Jonas probed, leaning against the desk where M...Michael used to fret over homework and “Mr. Peterson’s harsh criteria for what qualifies as ‘objective essay writing. Like, how do you stay objective on any topic you write about when humans are inherently subjective? And don’t even get me started on-’”

“Earth to Alex?”

Jonas’ words wormed their way through Alex’s haze. She blinked away the memories dancing across her eyes and unlocked her phone. “Uh, let’s see. ‘Hi sweetie! Hope you’re having fun’. Yada yada, ‘just came back from laying on the beach’, oh joy. ‘We might come back early just ‘cause I miss you so much’, greaaat. ‘Hugs and kisses! Oh, and say hi to Jonas for me!’”

Alex pocketed her phone, put on her best overjoyed expression, and waved frantically. “Hi, Jonas!”

The corners of Jonas’ lips twitched into a fragmented smile for a split second. Alex considered it a victory. “Howdy, Alex’s mom!”

“Right back at ya!” Alex exclaimed, her voice perfectly emulating the way her mom used to talk to her as a kid, “Oh, I can’t talk right now! I’m busy making out with my new hubbie! Excessively! Tongues are being inserted into places I never knew tongues could-"

“Oh god, too far, abort!” Jonas whined, holding his hands up to cover the image of Alex rolling onto her back and laughing her ass off.

“I’m gonna replace dousing myself in brain bleach with unpacking my stuff instead,” Jonas muttered.

Alex launched herself off the bed and onto her feet. “I can help!”

“That’s nice and all, but I’d rather keep the embarrassing glimpses into the music I like to a minimum,” Jonas replied with a half-hearted smirk. Half-victory. “Seriously, you’ve been a great help but I’ve got this.”

“Suit yourself.” Alex shrugged off the rejection and crossed over to the attic opening. She started to make her way down.

“By the way!” Jonas called after her.

Alex pivoted around and glanced back up at him.

"You're sure you're okay?" Jonas asked. Alex could make out what was either wisdom or worry through the creases in his forehead. It was probably more worry than anything else. Not that he wasn't...he was smart, but...ugh, Alex gave up on that train of thought.

"Yeah," Alex drawled, the word hanging in the air like a mushroom cloud, "why wouldn't I be?"

“Just asking,” Jonas responded evenly. “‘Cause, you know, the island... and running for our lives from our worst nightmares…”

Alex pursed her lips and gave him a look. “Okay, Mister General Sergeant Worry-Pants the Third. I’ve already got a mom, you know.”

“‘Kay ‘kay,” Jonas relented. He knelt down and started prying open the first box he could grab.

Alex let her gaze linger for a second longer before trotting down the steps. The echoes of her footfalls sparked volcanic eruptions in her being, but she was fine. She was _fine_.

* * *

  
Delivery pizza: the most holy of dinners for those who were too tired to cook yet somehow not done enough with life to starve. Alex learned through almost sickeningly witty banter that Jonas hated mushrooms on his pizza. She would’ve ex-communicated him from the family then and there, but she didn’t have the heart to make any jokes like that the whole afternoon, mostly for Jonas’ sake. So they ate at the ugly, off-white kitchen table, mostly talking, sometimes letting the quiet set in like concrete. Alex spent a majority of the time fixated on the light fixtures above them, waiting for them to speak to her or explode and rain shards of glass down on them or something.

Saying goodnight was painfully uncomfortable. Alex knew she could get used to it, but knowing didn’t help with...anything, really.

“If you need anything,” Jonas told her, eyes sparkling enough without the mental image of possessive ghosts taking over, “don’t hesitate to wake me up and...”

“Jonas, get some sleep,” Alex told him like she was issuing commands to an army.

Jonas frowned but nodded wordlessly.

Alex saw him all the way to the attic, and then headed across the hall to her own room. The moonlight spilling through the windows on her right ignited flashes. Flashes of her and... Michael. Talks of leaving. The brilliance of daylight jarringly juxtaposed against... everything. Her telling him to...to leave. It was kinda symbolic in a dumb way; leave had been possible, at least for him, and Alex would’ve willingly sacrificed herself for eternity before keeping him from that ‘cause what other options did she have she couldn’t just keep him forever and it wasn’t like she could actually change the past and she should’ve just moved on and...and j-just...god _damnit_.

Alex hurried to her room and closed the door before any demons could barge their way in, literal or otherwise.

Letting go of the doorknob a second later than what was probably healthy, Alex peered around. The posters she usually glossed over were suddenly, like, there, and her desk reminded her of the assignments she’d probably get zero percents on tomorrow. With finals coming up, she really should’ve found it in her to care. But she didn’t. She just. Didn’t.

 _Breath_ , Alex reminded herself, except that wasn’t the problem. She was breathing too much and just way too fast in and out in and out and why was this happening what did she do to deserve this _Christ_ ?

Alex dove into bed, her forehead knocking into the frame at the end. She let out an embarrassed “ow” and rubbed the affected area until the pain died down to a static near-nothingness.

Alex flopped over to stare at the ceiling with eyes too old for her body. Or anyone’s body, really. Her pulse throbbed in her ears. Her fingers flexed like they were grabbing for something or someone in the air around her. She remembered her stress ball, lying neglected in one of her drawers, the same place it’d been for the past year since her school’s guidance counselor gave it to her. It rested there like a sleeping corpse, right next to...the...

Cat videos. Cat videos were the solution to everything.

Alex pulled out her phone, unlocked it faster than the speed of light, and opened up the video app. Her hands shook but she managed to survive typing into the search bar.

The next thirty minutes or hour or eternity went by in a blur that made rain-soaked windshields jealous. She took massive gulps every now and then, like she could force the intrusive thoughts out with air. Thoughts like tuning into malevolent, alien geometries. Spotlight eyes filled with dying embers. Ren drowning. Clarissa falling. Emptiness. Loops. Death. Death. _Death_.

The ghosts wanted to be remembered. Well, they got their wish. They’d have their wish as long as she lived.

Alex shoved her phone back into her jacket, rocketed to her feet, and skipped over to the door quietly. Adjusting her routine for Jonas was...annoying, yeah, but worth it, if she was being completely, scarily honest. She opened the door and embraced the night atmosphere infecting the house like a disease. She used to be a night person, but Alex was pretty sure the island ruined that.

Tiptoeing along floorboard patterns memorized through years of past failures, Alex reached the stairs and headed down. She counted the seconds until she’d made it to the kitchen.

 _Medicine cabinet, medicine cabinet_ , her mind echoed like there were multiple voices speaking in unison, kinda like… the creepiest choir ever. Alex wondered if she’d secretly been taken over by the ghosts and just didn’t know it. What if she lost control? What if she went back up and made her way to the attic with a knife and a stupid evil grin and-

Alex knelt down by the right cabinet, clutching the knobs like they were tethers to the mortal realm. She used her phone’s flashlight to find what she needed. Leaving the cabinet door open, Alex crossed the threshold to the sink. _Cups, cups, cups, just gotta get a cup._

Glass of water soon in hand, she gulped down the medicine and drowned her worries away. _Thank fuck for side effects_ , she thought blissfully. If the meds didn’t work, Alex figured she could always learn to shapeshift into an owl or something.

Alex transited the living room and made her way back up the stairs. The dark turned her limbs to stone and her mind to mush, but she made it back to her room in one piece. Physically, anyway. Mentally, she felt like a stuffed animal shoved through a wood chipper.

Alex closed the door and slipped into bed. Sleep, she ordered. She tried telepathically sending sleep signals throughout her body.

…

…

…

Crackling static.

Alex practically leaped into another dimension.

She propelled herself into a sitting position and perked her ears. The sound died off before she could confidently say if she was hallucinating or not. She knew trauma did crazy things, but it was another thing to experience those things first-hand and

Again. Louder, this time.

…

The drawer.

…

…

...

_No. No no no no no._

_Not tonight._

_Not again._

_Not this soon._

_Just...no._

…

Alex moved like a zombie. She abandoned the inviting press of her comforter and moved to the drawer. Every bit of her essence told her to stop. You stupid, cliche horror protagonist, what are you doing?! You’re done with the island! You’re done with ghosts and radios and

Okay, yeah, except...she wasn’t.

She really, _really_ wasn’t.

Alex pulled the drawer out. Spotted the pocket radio. Grabbed it like it was made of fire...

A voice broke the static.

“Alex? This is... Alex. Listen, don’t come to Edwards Island. Whatever you do, just don’t come here. Stay home. Stay...safe.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like accidentally overwriting the first chapter with the second chapter to make you appreciate having backups. :,)

Camena High almost (scratch that, it _definitely_ ) felt like a legend, like something Alex had heard about while sitting around a campfire late at night, half-drunk and half-listening to poetically woven lies. The exhausted red of the sky consuming her as she parked Jonas’ car in the school parking lot felt the same way. It was like...like _one_ misstep or loud noise or rude gesture or _something_ would make it disappear into the ether. Just another bad dream.

She was _fine_.

“I’m…” Jonas hesitated. Alex thought by now he'd have been done with trying to hide his feelings from her, but some things took more than three days to adjust to, she guessed. “Look, I’m just not sure this is a good idea. The whole going-to-school thing. After...after everything, it’s-”

“C’mon, seriously?” Alex countered, reaching up to flip the sun visor back into place. She caught a sliver of herself in the rear view mirror and almost had a heart attack when she mistook the brown in her eye for red. “A: we can't bail, that’d wound my dignity and there's only so much of it left intact.”

Jonas furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s kinda-”

“And B:” Alex finished, lifting two fingers up before feeling dumb and lowering her hand, “this’ll be good for us, ya know? A way to, like, re-acclimate to the real world.”

“I've seen enough of the real world,” Jonas muttered. “It has ghosts and sadness. That's it. The only two things that make up the universe. Atoms? What are those?”

Alex unbuckled her seatbelt, accidentally tossing it with enough force to hit the car door. It let out the sound of exactly eighty-five nuclear bombs. Alex jumped in her skin, but so far she seemed safe from the total destruction of the world around her. For now.

“Has anyone ever told you you worry too much?” Alex sighed. She smirked to soften the blow. “Wait, no, it doesn't matter 'cause this is _me_ telling _you_ you worry too much.”

Alex placed a hand on Jonas’ shoulder. She saw more of her brother in herself every day, and it was the exact opposite of a problem. “You’ll be fine. _We’ll_ be fine. So let’s... _try_ to enjoy ourselves? As much as this craphole will allow, anyway.”

Jonas gulped. He gave a despondent nod, reached over to pry his keys from the ignition, and grabbed his backpack from the back seat. He shoved open the passenger door and stepped out like the textbook definition of a fish out of water. He hadn’t worn his seatbelt. Alex chose not to bring it up.

Tailing after Jonas, Alex absorbed the atmosphere. The shifting colours up above her, beginning to reach a clear-like-water blue; the looming structure before her, itself just another hivemind of ghosts and zombies and every nightmarish demon she’d ever conjured as a kid; and of course, the boy she would’ve probably thrown herself under a ghost-infested bus for again and again as he shoved his hands into his pockets and dragged himself up the front steps, his backpack bobbing up and down lifelessly.

Her phone rumbled.

Alex whipped it out of her pocket and opened it up, finding a notification from the newborn group chat.

Ren: _hey so we’re still meeting up right? 12:30, library? pls say yes. also cram your lunches down your throats beforehand unless you actively seek death via librarian wrath. i won’t judge if that’s like your kink or whatever but us enablers get punished too and i got caught like a week ago so it wouldn’t be a fun time for me sooo ya._

Nona: _Dude chill. We’ll be there._

Alex: _can confirm, there will be an excessive amount of being there. i’ll never leave. the books are my home now. it’s not a phase, dad._

Clarissa: _Can everyone shut up for like two seconds? Kinda trying to listen to music here._

Ren _: you can literally turn your notifications off but alright._

Clarissa: _What did I just say?_

Alex pocketed her phone, and stood there for a solid few seconds, drowning in a feeling she couldn’t quite pinpoint but had a general gist of:

_Alex? This is....Alex._

_Stay home._

_Stay...safe._

Alex sucked in a city-devouring breath, tugged at her storm blue messenger bag for support, and followed in Jonas’ wake like a star hurtling itself into a black hole.

* * *

 

Lunch came around way too fast. If time had become meaningless when Michael died, then at that point it had gone even further than that, all the way into the negatives. It was taking back meaning it never had in the first place. Or something dumb like that.

Alex shot out of class and embraced the suffocating pool of shuffling students like the masochistic weirdo she was. Her stomach did elaborate gymnastics routines as she navigated her way to her locker, any and all desire for food dissipating by the time she’d emptied her bag of schoolwork. Great. Just...ugh, maybe Jonas was right.

 _No_. She could manage it. She _had_ to. Whether that was the nice or not-nice version of her mental voice talking, she had no idea.

Alex closed her locker and made her way to the front door to the office. Jonas was already there, eyeing everything around him like the school’s layout was gonna be a topic on an exam. Alex shuddered at the thought.

“Hey,” Alex said. Her lack of sleep caught up to her, glazing over her eyes and dulling her senses.

“Hey,” Jonas replied, swinging his arms back and forth while kicking at the ground. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah,” Alex chimed. “Let’s commence Operation: Reunion.”

Alex led the way, clutching her bag like it could keep her from collapsing. Jonas followed wordlessly, which was fine, but Alex kinda missed the awkward small talk born from wandering aimlessly around a rural hellscape and feeling like they were the last two people on the planet. Maybe they’d gotten to know each other too well, too quickly. Alex didn’t know if that made any sense, but it didn’t matter. She shoved her thoughts into an imaginary box and kicked it to the moon.

The library entrance came into view, an unassuming thing tucked away in the corner between two hallways. Memories of sitting at chipped wooden tables, etching into them with pens and trying not to ruin her textbooks with tears like she was a walking embodiment of soap operas, mulled through her mind.

In a weird on-the-outside-looking-in way, her life was kinda fascinating. Kinda.

“Hey, guys!”

Alex and Jonas spun around. Ren jogged over to them, nothing on hand and a very Ren-esque smile on his face. Alex felt like she’d been tugged back down to Earth (in a good way) just by looking at him, even though the island did... _confusing_ things to their relationship. She hadn’t had the mental space to think about that over the weekend, so whatever she did then and there would decide how things would be between them. Forever.

Alex held her arms out. “Come here, ya little goober.”

Ren stepped into her embrace, all happiness and gangly arms he didn’t know where to place.

“Your feminine sentiments _wound_ my fragile masculine ego,” Ren spoke into her back.

“Shut up and hug me tighter,” Alex exhaled, oozing gratitude to the multiverse. She still had her best friend. The entire timeline they shared hadn’t gone up in flames. For a second, everything actually felt fine.

When they parted, Ren opened his arms to Jonas. “All homo?”

Jonas grinned nervously. “Um...half homo,” he replied, nonetheless hugging Ren. “I'm glad you’re alive and...stuff.”

Ren patted Jonas on the back.

“Alright, enough mushy, skin-on-skin contact,” Ren said, letting go and taking a small step back. “We’ve got a support group to attend here. My therapist’s been pushing me to do one for a while so _now_ I can finally say I did it. Technically. Not really. But whatever.”

Alex made a sound of acknowledgement and shoved the entrance door open for them. Leadership had never been her forte, but one night had changed that, apparently. That was the second not-crappy thing the island did.

Half of the first not-crappy thing the island did was already sitting at a table towards the far end of the library. Her phone held her undivided attention until Alex and her discount Scooby Gang strolled over.

“Hey,” Nona welcomed them, giving them a small wave. Alex noticed her outfit was different. For some reason the image of her beanie and burnt orange sweater had been etched into her mind as a universal constant. The change was probably for the best. Both 'cause Alex wanted every chance she could take to forget, and 'cause it must've been cathartic for Nona, shedding the clothes she’d carried through all the messed up shit. It must’ve felt like metamorphosis, or like breaking a time loop.

Alex tugged the sleeves of her red jacket over her hands. She didn't know the feeling.

Ren leaped into the seat next to Nona’s and scooted closer to her. “Why, hello there,” he...Alex tried thinking of an appropriate word. Schmoozed? Yeah, that.

Alex and Jonas sat down at the opposite end of the table while Nona tried and failed to hold back her smile. “If this is you after one date with historically accurate depictions of murder, I can't wait 'til you meet my grandfather,” she said.

“Ha! ...Wait, what’s this about meeting your grandfather?” Ren asked, tilting his head like a puppy. That was the default animal Alex tended to compare him to. Best friend, hopeless romantic, it all gave off a puppy vibe. “Isn’t he, like…”

“Yeah. I mean, you don’t have to come, but if you want, you can,” Nona blurted, running a hand through her exposed hair. Alex wished her hair could be that straight naturally. (Unlike her sexuality.) “I kinda cancelled my birthday party plans so I could go see him and my parents are tagging along and I figured you could, too. It’d be a good way to, like, show you a slice of my life? Plus, I haven't seen him in a while so I kinda need the emotional support for...that. But it's ok if you don't wanna-”

“You had me at the mention of old people,” Ren replied. Which was a total lie. Alex beamed on his behalf.

The library door swung open, spewing Clarissa into the room and closing on its own accord like it wanted nothing to do with her. She walked in like a force of nature, footsteps disturbing the serenity of the sacred space. Alex didn’t know if she felt annoyed or envious.

Clarissa made it to the table and sat down next to Nona. Her backpack slipped off her shoulder and fell to the floor with a thud.

“Hey,” Nona greeted.

“Hey,” Clarissa mumbled, putting her elbows on the table and propping her head up.

‘The gang’s all here!” Ren exclaimed -slash- whispered. “Man, fun times await us like ya wouldn’t believe.”

Nona chuckled. “Right.”

...Silence...

‘’Sooo,” Alex piped up, changing the proverbial channel to something that wasn’t deafening static. “Hooow are all of you doing?”

“I’m scarred for life and my fundamental beliefs have been shattered now I know ghosts exist,” Clarissa rambled, shooting a passive-aggressive smile at Alex that matched her tone, “but otherwise I’m just _peachy_.”

...

Ren fake-coughed into his fist. “‘Oh, and thanks for saving my life, Alex. I _really_ appreciate it.’”

Clarissa sunk into her seat and folded her arms. Staring at Ren and definitely not Alex, she let out a bland, “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it,” Alex deadpanned.

Clarissa nodded. For a girl with so much fire in her, she was amazingly cold.

“Seriously, Alex,” Nona spoke up, offering her some intimidatingly intense eye contact. “Thank you. For saving us. For going on what could’ve been, like, a suicide mission or whatever and beating the baddies. We wouldn’t be here without you.”

Alex didn’t know what to do with her limbs at that moment. She resorted to looking down at the table and nodding. “That really means a lot to hear, but it wasn’t...it was just the right thing to do. I dunno…”

“I get that,” Nona replied, folding her hands and leaning forward, her arms occupying more table space in the process. “I mean, I think I do. But still, I’m grateful. We’re _all_ grateful.”

She glanced at Clarissa in an expectant way. Clarissa finally faced Alex head-on.

“I’m...sorry.” Clarissa practically choked on her words. Her red hair framed her face kinda miserably, nearly hiding her eyes. “For blaming you for everything. For saying you...killed Michael.”

“Wait, you really _said_ that?” Jonas asked. Alex could hear his eyebrows achieve liftoff.

“Yeah, in a...what are we calling it? One of the time loops?” Clarissa admitted, fiddling with her cuticles. “Except this was before I got possessed. Again. But yeah, I’m sorry. It was...I was out of line.”

Nona reached a hand over to Clarissa and smiled. Clarissa held it.

“I won’t lie; it hurt, what you said. Like, a lot,” Alex told her. The space between them felt like a light year. “But I understand. I know how much you cared about him. Michael.”

Clarissa nodded somberly. “You...saw him, right?” she asked. Her eyes were filled with nothing but genuine...something or other. “In your vision things?”

Alex let out a shaky breath. “Y...yeah. Yeah. They were like...it was like reliving memories. You came up a lot in our conversations. And I actually saw you with him, like, once. It was that one time we hung out by the beach.”

“Oh yeaaah,” Clarissa mused. “I remember that day. Good times.”

“Wow,” Ren interjected, holding a hand to his forehead and turning his attention to Alex. “That sounds...heavy. Whenever I got possessed, I kept seeing, like, _you_. Sometimes with brown hair, sometimes with blue. Kinda miss the brown to be honest, but I can’t criticize your style without craving a smackdown....but anyway, we hung out and stuff and it was kinda adorable. But also creepy. But also adorable.”

Alex smiled.

A part of her essence pinged.

“Uh, wow,” Alex responded. Her core felt like it had shrivelled up and died. “That’s...look, guys, there’s something I’ve gotta tell you.”

“Oh,” Jonas said, eyeing Alex with concern he should’ve been reserving for himself. Alex solemnly vowed to believe non-stop altruism was a curse until the end of time. “Are you okay? Do you-”

“I’m…” Alex cut him off. “I’m fine...ish. Look. Last night, my radio started working even though it was turned off. And I heard my voice.”

Everyone shifted in place. _Great_.

“I don’t like it either,” Alex grumbled.

Clarissa shook her head. “Oh my god, this is-”

“What did you say?” Ren probed. “Radio you, I mean.”

Alex clenched her fists under the table. “I...she...she said something like ‘Alex, this is Alex. Don’t come to the island. Stay home. Stay...safe.’”

“...Well,” Nona proclaimed, “that’s nothing you didn’t already know. So yay, redundancy.”

“So basically you’re cursed.”

All eyes landed on Clarissa.

“The island bullshit followed you home, and now you’re here, sitting with us, knowing fully well that you could, like…god, I can’t believe...”

“ _What_ , Clarissa?” Alex’s entire being snapped. “Knowing I could _what_ ? Infect you more than you already were? Christ, you think I _asked_ for this? You think I asked for the fabric of space-time to break just by me _existing_? What happened to the ‘I’m sorry for blaming you for everything’?”

“It doesn’t _matter_ whether you asked for it or not,” Clarissa countered, letting go of Nona’s hand and reaching for her backpack. “We’re free. _I’m_ free. And I’m gonna stay that way. I’m sorry, but I’ve had enough of ghosts and stupid islands and...just...this was supposed to be the aftermath, not Edwards Island two-point-oh. I’m out of here.”

“Clarissa!” Nona called to her, but she’d already stood up, hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder, and stormed out of the library.

The towering shelves of books around her pushed Alex further into her shell. Her vision blurred and her pulse pounded against her skull and she was just done. She was _done_.

“I’m heading to my locker,” Alex said as she stood up, a dark tinge in her words that would’ve made her cringe from embarrassment if she weren’t so fucking _infuriated_.

Jonas rose from his seat. His kindness was sickening at that point. The thought of that kinda scared her.

“I’m heading to my locker _alone_ ,” Alex clarified, only barely holding herself back from outright screaming. Light on her feet, she reached the library exit, tugged the door open with the strength of eighty-five supernaturally buff athletes, and left. Angry tears prickled her eyes, but it wasn’t ‘cause of Clarissa being absolutely abominable or wrong or whatever. Actually, she’d been right. Alex brought the island back with her. She was still affected, _in_ fected. With what, she didn’t know.

And that, above all, scared her the most.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex tried walking it off, letting off steam, performing _some_ idiom that according to the general population was supposed to work. It didn't. It didn't and there she was, falling back against her locker and sliding down dramatically to the floor and hurting her tailbone in the process and she just didn't. Give. A fuck.

Alex let out a whoosh of air and stared up, letting the gross fluorescent lights above her sear themselves into her retinas. She blinked and watched the negative imprints of light vanish before her eyes.

…

So. She was, like, _basically_ cursed.

What did she _really_ expect, though? It wasn't like she could’ve _actually_ escaped what happened at the island. So instead of just carrying the image of her friends with fires for eyes and husks for souls, she now carried some quasi-demonic disease. Like rabies. Only more insidious and ghostly. This was her life now.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

“Hey.”

Ren approached her, his shadow falling over her like a...like a veil of chains or some shit. She didn't even know.

“Hey,” Alex sighed. She wanted to quote unquote “keep a shred of normal”, but she was three days too late to the normalcy party. That ship had sailed long ago, following in her innocence and virginity’s wake.

Ren leaned against the lockers next to her and slid down. Alex wondered how awesome it would've been to capture that moment on film, two friends mimicking each other like psychically-connected twins, two sets of converse twitching side to side. God, it was so fucking mundane, it _hurt_.

“You totally missed Jonas and me having the biggest apology-fest ever about the brownie thing,” Ren spoke, more-so with his arms than his voice. His enthusiasm bounced off her like she was emitting a force field. That would've been infinitely cooler than what she was stuck with. Was it too late to join the X-Men? (Yes. The answer was yes.)

Alex lowered her gaze. The tasteless tan flooring below her was suddenly more appealing than her life. “A darn shame,” she replied with half a breath.

Ren made an understanding humming sound.

They sat there for a minute or two, a binary system with zero energy. Just two stars fading into the quiet vacuum of nonexistence. If Alex squinted, she could’ve almost imagined how the sunken officers felt. Eroding into subatomic particles and leaving behind a wandering, furious energy. Yeah, Alex decided, that was how she felt.

The bell rang. Alex jolted.

“We better head to class,” Ren spoke up as students started trickling into the hallway from nearly everywhere. “I heard Ms. Ava’s giving us yet another in-class assignment. If I have to code another stupid if-else statement, I’m gonna launch myself into the sun.”

Alex resisted the urge to interrupt him with the screams of hell bubbling up from her diaphragm. Jesus, whoever she was now wasn’t actually _her_ and she knew it. She was possessed in a weird way. It didn't feel like full-on, Edwards Island-esque possession, though. It was like her subconscious was taking the reins in her brain, locking her conscious mind in a cage. It was like she was losing her sense of self...to herself? Which was, like, whatever, but...

Alex stood up, reached out a hand for Ren to pull himself to his feet, and marched in the direction of her computers class. Two more classes, she told herself. Two more classes and she could go home and pretend ghosts were in movies and interpersonal conflict was a plot device and curses were for young, stupid kids’ imaginations and not for young, marginally less stupid kids like herself.

Ugh.

* * *

Being in a room full of modern technology was a stark contrast to...whatever the island was. The sleek, futuristic screens all around her removed her from the idea of nonexistent phone reception and radio locks and every other dumb, outdated piece of crap from one of the worst times in her life. Alex almost wanted to stay in class forever.

Ren occupied the spot next to her. The girl who usually sat where Ren had plopped himself made a fuss about it, but Ren did his usual _Ren_ thing and convinced her it was fine. That was his superpower. He had a way with words. “Please let me sit here. Ditch school to help my band. Please don’t go; I’ll miss you. Let’s go to an island and tune into a paranormal phenomenon and fuck ourselves over-”

Alex squeezed her eyes shut, and opened them again. One more train of thought and she might’ve derailed. It wasn’t...it didn’t matter how terrible the day and the island and her life had been; she’d rather die than point fingers. That was Clarissa's job. Past tense. Hopefully.

Once the teacher gave out the day’s assignment, Alex opened a browser and proceeded to completely ignore the instructions. It was time to do some extracurricular research. For science.

She typed into the search bar: “Edwards Island ghosts.”

Ren glanced at her screen. “Nice.”

Alex smirked. “Don't you have mega-boring things to do?”

“You filthy hypocrite,” Ren chuckled.

The next half an hour went by in a haze of exaggerated first-hand accounts, miscellaneous information about the island's history, and absolutely zero mentions of ghosts and triangles from hell. Though Alex did find some...scarring...articles...about the park ranger who, um, killed himself.

She could see Clarissa. _Other ships_. Falling bodies. Thuds.

Alex made sure to erase her web history, and then closed the browser tabs that had been piling up. One of the tabs glitched briefly, all blocky pixels and seizure-inducing colours. ‘Cause _that_ was what Alex needed to cap off the day. _God_.

“So,” Ren chirped, closing the game of Snake he’d just won, “did Investigator Alex find anything noteworthy?”

“Nope,” Alex answered, her voice low enough to compensate for Ren’s entire existence. “It’s like...I dunno. It sucks. Like, I wish we could find people who know about things, even a little. Five bratty teens isn’t enough, ya know?”

Ren nodded soulfully, drumming his fingers against his keyboard. “Yeah. I mean, I know some of the seniors messed around near the cave with radios, but I’ve talked to a lot of them and they don’t give off ‘I just went through the most traumatic shit in my life oh my god' vibes. M-”

“Ren,” the teacher spoke sternly from her desk, not looking up from her screen. “Less talk, more work.”

Alex grinned, rolled her eyes, and glanced back at her- what the _fuck_?

Glitches. Like TV static. Blizzarding, black-and-white grains and waves, blinking in and out of existence and-

The speakers crackled.

A voice hissed through them, too familiar to be real.

“ _Al. Ex._ ”

Chills shot through Alex’s spine.

In a breath that clung to the back of her throat like a claw, she whimpered back to the static.

“ _Michael?_ ”

“Alex,” the teacher drawled. Her approaching footsteps echoed through every cavern in Alex’s being. “What is…why is your…?”

Alex’s body shook. She didn’t register the tears until they started streaming down her cheeks and she j-just, she just, oh god, oh fucking _god_ , not again, not...

“ _Michael?_ ” she pleaded to the speakers.

They went dead.

Alex went supernova.

Ren breached the bubble of numbness around her. “I think she needs to see the nurse,” he said with more sobriety than she’d ever heard in her life.

Alex felt his firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder. She stood up less out of free will and more out of instinct. She felt like a machine as she let Ren lead her out of the room and into the hallway, her legs trying their damnedest to be as stiff as humanly possible. Somehow, she made it through the swinging door leading into the stairwell.

Alex stopped. She gravitated towards the wall next to the stairs, sliding down and hugging her knees to her chest. _Christ_ , why was she...why _now_ ? Why the stupid leaky eye faucets? _An entire island tried swallowing her and spitting her out into the void_. She could still remember the sound Clarissa’s body made when it met the ground and Ren hovering in the air and making nightmares look like daydreams and Jonas losing himself to the red glow and the voices and for _fuck’s sake_ , she _saw Michael again_ and it’d been the closest she’d ever gotten to a second chance with him and she _fucked it up_! She fucked it up and-

Ren joined her side, lifting an arm up and around her. She toppled into his chest, and suddenly it was like being at the funeral a year ago. Looking down at the pale shell that suddenly wasn’t the living, breathing person she’d grown up with anymore. Clinging to Ren like he was her other brother who could vanish at any moment if she let go.

...So. She was, like, _definitely_ cursed.

Ren rested his head against hers. They sat there together for the rest of the period.

* * *

How Alex made it through her last class, she didn’t know. Though her definition of “making it” didn’t align with how she felt by the time she’d pushed through the front doors and nearly tripped on her way down the steps.

Jonas was already sitting in the car, wrists resting on the steering wheel and eyes fixed on something in the distance. It was like he was searching for answers that weren’t there to questions he didn’t have. _You and me both_ , she thought.

Alex hopped in through the passenger side and pulled the door closed. Hard. She wasn't worried about breaking reality anymore. Reality had gone and fucked itself up without her.

Jonas had no right to look as concerned as he did. It was downright adorable. “Bad day?”

Alex gave him a broken nod. She crossed her arms and hugged herself, trying to squeeze the negativity out of her like wringing a sponge. “I’ll tell you about it at home.”

Jonas pursed his lips. He took out his keys and jammed them into the ignition. “Alright. Just letting you know, if someone's bothering you, I've got two fists and a bad reputation to uphold."

Alex shot him a grin (it was more like a lip twitch but whatever) and slouched in her seat, relieved. She eyed the outside world from the safety of her window. The sky was too bright to symbolize how she felt. She wanted it to be a cliché. She wanted it to rain like how it did on the island. She wanted overcast skies to shroud the world in the most melodramatic, never-ending night in existence because maybe, _maybe_ then everything would feel real. Maybe then she could believe in ghosts that wouldn't stay dead and fundamental laws of physics rebelling against her and boys looking vaguely like her brother staring out a classroom windo-

Alex blinked and looked up at the window again.

Nothing.

Alex peeled her eyes away and stared at her lap. Her vision unfocused. Her fingers curled and flexed maniacally like creepy-ass shadow puppets.

She wanted cliché, and now she had it.

* * *

Home was warm. Not just in the typical _kiss your skin and make you feel like a smiling woman in a commercial_ way. Warm also meant not mind-blowingly crazy. Warm meant safe from the outside world, safe from _actual freaking paranormal activity_. Home was her refuelling station, and Alex embraced it with open arms and a little spin as she stepped inside, Jonas locking the door behind her.

“Soooo on a scale of suck to not-so-suck, how was your first day at Camena High?” Alex asked Jonas.

Jonas' lips formed a straight line. “Uh, well, the delinquent in me wants to say it was like juvie: the sequel,” he droned, shedding his green jacket and placing it on a hook already occupied by one of her mom’s winter coats. Alex considered it a welcome addition to the interior decor. “But honestly, it was...okay. I made zero friends but I also made zero enemies, which is a win in my book.”

“Nice,” Alex replied, flopping onto the nearest couch and planting her face into a decorative pillow. The leathery material was barely comfortable, but her mom loved it for the aesthetic. “Though you kinda headed in with three new friends plus a sister, so you're pretty much covered.”

Jonas nodded and smiled in a way that creased his cheeks. It was alarmingly expressive. _Who are you and what did you do to Jonas?_

”Fair point,” he said. “Oh, by the way, Clarissa’s in...like, I think it was my Math class? Kinda hoping _we_ share a class ‘cause it’ll make school life slightly more bearable.”

Alex craned her neck to look at him, her hair falling into her eyes. “If we don't, you can ask the office to switch classes,” she spoke partially into the pillow. "I ha-"

“Meh, that involves talking to people,” Jonas responded with pursed lips.

Alex shimmied onto her back and rested her arms against her stomach. She stared up at the unlit, circular lights embedded in the ceiling, waiting for them to flicker with the flames of hell.

The air went limp.

“Sooo wanna tell me about _your_  day?” Jonas probed.

Alex zoned out to the rhythmic rise and fall of her stomach. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Lemme just...re-calibrate.”

Jonas faded into her peripheral as he sat down on the perpendicular, one-man arm chair. Alex could picture it: the Christmases (Christmii? No, that was stupid.) they’d spend sitting in the exact same room on the exact same furniture. The movies they’d watch and the two player fighting game tournaments they’d have. The late night bouts of insomnia and night terrors they’d talk about to each other until their lungs collapsed and backs gave out. Or maybe they wouldn’t even speak. They’d just lie there, and they’d _be_. “Wilting into atoms” for eternity.

Alex forced out the most painful breath of her life.

Eyes still focused on the ceiling, she told Jonas everything.

* * *

Alex clambered on all fours up the stairs. She stood up at the top and poked her head through the attic opening.

“You ready?” she asked.

Jonas pivoted his head to look at her and pushed away from the desk a bit, pencil still in hand. His chair squeaked a bit against the wooden flooring the way it used to forever ago. The sound was weirdly nice?

“Uuuh, five minutes?” he pleaded.

“‘Kay,” she replied, gulping away her anxiety.

Alex trotted back down the steps and waited. Two-ish minutes later, Jonas joined her, keys and phone in hand. He offered her an awkward half-smile and motioned for her to take the lead.

The two made their way to the front door, Jonas grabbing his signature jacket and Alex patting her own jacket’s chest pocket. Her hand made contact with tough plastic. Good. This was good. This was...this was really happening.

“Did you just slap your boob?” Jonas snickered.

“Yep,” Alex answered, slipping her shoes on without bothering to untie the laces first. “It’s naughty and must atone for its sins.”

“I...have nothing to say to that,” Jonas said with an incredulous look. She felt accomplished.

Alex welcomed the red sunset hues and fresh air. She waited for the beep, then slipped into the pickup truck resting conspicuously in the driveway. Jonas joined her.

“If…like, if you change your mind-” Jonas piped up.

“Let’s get this over with before that happens,” Alex cut in, crossing her arms with more authority than she actually had over Jonas. Or herself.

Jonas nodded curtly. His keys found the ignition. Car: started. Driveway: abandoned. Going back: not an option.

Alex watched the streets pass by in the rear view mirror. Everything closer to the car moved quicker than everything further away. It was borderline poetic.

She expected at least _some_ sort of feeling to surface. Something raw. Something definable. But she didn't know if she felt anything in that moment, or at least anything she could process. So Alex just let the time slip by. She let Jonas hum an entire song softly to himself. She let the distant sun and crimson traffic lights become background radiation.

The car rolled to a stop in the empty parking lot. The pier stood before them, framed by the windshield like a picture.

The island loomed on the horizon.

There was a word for what was about to happen, but Alex couldn't… _bookends_ , that was it. Or something.

The car engine gave way to silence. As if it were a cue, Alex opened the door and stepped out.

The ocean breeze wasn’t as alluring as travel blogs made it out to be, but the view definitely was. Alex absorbed the ember shades of the clouds like she’d spontaneously developed photosynthesis. If the island hadn’t been sticking out like those squiggly lines that sometimes floated across her eyes, she would've been at peace, at home. But it was. So she wasn’t.

Alex slid down the cement stairs’ railing, landing at the bottom and looking back to make sure Jonas was following her. When he boringly made it down the steps, she led the way across the boardwalk, moving along the very edge. The water lining the sides of the path came in rippling waves and disappeared underneath. Small boats lay dormant like sleeper agents waiting for magic words to activate them, helplessly tethered to the boardwalk via rope and doomed to watch the freely moving ones off in the distance.

The path ended. The water surrounded Alex on almost all sides, inviting her to take another step. Alex _was_ tempted to test if the island curse had turned her into some Jesus-y...demigod-ish... _thing_ , but controlled herself.

Jonas met her side. Together, they took in the view.

“Welp,” Jonas shattered the moment, “‘no-half-assedness at the end.’ Or...whatever you said. That one time.”

Alex’s gut became a bowling ball. “How do you even remember that?” she asked, turning to him. “I could've told you I hide dead bodies in my closet and I'd be none the wiser. Or that I named my rhino plushy 'Horny.’”

Jonas snickered. “'Horny.' Jesus Christ.”

The two of them went quiet after that...

Alex reached into her jacket pocket.

Her fingers wrapped around the radio. She brought it out and held the tiny, unassuming thing in her hand like it held the weight of the world. That made two of them.

Alex glanced at Jonas.

Jonas watched her expectantly.

She reached out to the dial and turned it ‘til it clicked. Static engulfed her. For a brief moment she could almost feel them. The ghosts, what they did, what they said, what they were.  _Everything._ She felt _everything_.

Alex took a deep breath. Brought her arm back. Tensed every muscle.

“ _Al. Ex. No._ ”

Alex dropped the radio. It landed with a clank, skipped a foot away, and stopped just shy of going overboard.

_“Mi. Chael. I. Am. Al. No. Help. I. Am. Mi. Chael. Am-”_

Alex grabbed the radio off the ground. Shut it off. Froze in place _._

“Oh...god,” Jonas uttered.

“I…I can’t. I swear to god, I just _can’t_ ,” Alex breathed out at the speed of light. Her pulse felt like it would jump out of her body and maim her and this was dumb, and _she_ was dumb, and-

“Yeah. I don't blame you.” Jonas sighed, shooting her a pitying look. “What’re you thinking?”

Alex swallowed the mix of saliva and tension in her throat. She was thinking of soulless eyes and distorted crackles. She was thinking of the reverberation every heavy, tired step she’d taken on that fucking island had sent through her body. She was thinking of the static shock-like film that coated her tongue when she’d tuned into a geometric abomination, phased into an alien dimension, and begged for Clarissa’s life.

She was thinking about how she let Michael die. Twice. The first  time against her will, the second time on purpose ‘cause she didn't have a single controlling bone in her body, and _god fucking damnit_ , she wasn’t...she _couldn’t_ lose him a third time.

Alex pocketed the radio. “I think I'm up for one more ghost adventure. _One_ more-” she lifted a finger, “-and everything will stop. And _I'll_ stop. And I’ll be free of this...this insane, sequel bait-y bullshit.”

Jonas smirked with enough brilliance to power Alex's soul 'til the end of time. “Works for me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's incomplete 'cause I've been writing it for 5-ish months, stopped for a variety of reasons, and feel like the pressure to complete it is preventing me from writing other things. I might finish it someday, just probably not anytime soon. Overall I'm very proud of this fic and I'm glad there are people who've enjoyed it. Thank you for the kudos and comments! (Even if I don't respond I still see them and appreciate them a heck ton!)

Alex woke up to voices.

Not the ghostly kind. (Probably.) Not the insane kind. (Which, honestly, wasn’t the worst kind to have. You couldn’t suppress ghosts with therapy, meds, or a healthy dose of denial… probably.) No, she heard _real_ voices emanating from downstairs, going dead for long stretches of time before coming back spine-chillingly soft. She heard things moving. Footsteps trying their hardest to be quiet.

The tension in Alex’s gut carved a hole through her soul.

Unblinking, she grabbed her cellphone from the bedside table, and then the pocket radio, which had spent the night painfully indenting the skin on her back. Rolling off the bed to keep the box-spring from squeaking, she eyed around, looking for the best impromptu weapon possible.

Game controller? That felt both symbolic and stupid. Textbook? Knowledge wasn’t _that_ powerful. Curtains? Not unless she wanted to get u-

The bar holding the curtains. _Yes_. Score one for youthful ingenuity.

Closing and pocketing both devices, Alex climbed onto her desk and pried the bar off, pulling the curtain away. She glided towards the door on sock-covered feet and lifted it up by the handle before carefully opening it. _Take that, dad_ ; a year of sneaking out actually had, like, _some_ benefits.

Alex felt like an astronaut on the moon as she ebbed away from her room and approached the main stairwell. The spectral haze of morning light filtered through the curtains, too optimistic for comfort. Alex focused less on how brick-shittingly terrified and ready-to-fuck-other-human-beings-up she was, and more on her heartbeat. It was her own personal soundtrack. A dumb, perfectly fitting soundtrack.

Alex glanced behind her, eyeing the stairs leading to the attic. She hoped Jonas was up there, obliviously sleeping and 100% not murdered. One… one brother was enough.

Gulping in a restrained breath through her mouth, she descended the steps. Her free hand clutched the railing.

Midway into her stealthy descent, one of the steps creaked.

“Alex?”

A wave of heat washed over her, first out of fear and then out of sheer fucking embarrassment.

Moving faster, Alex breached the kitchen entrance.

“Hey,” Alex managed to let out before she was engulfed by a towering, perfume-scented mass.

Alex let go first, pulling back and taking her mom in. It was like looking at an older, alternate timeline version of herself that would never exist in her neck of the multiversal woods if she had any say in the matter. Her chestnut brown hair fell into curly, angelic waves, and everything about her rounded features screamed, “Soft! Puppies! Sunshine!”

Also, she looked mildly sunburnt. And happy. Like, _grandma using a hilarious filter in a selfie app for the first time_ happy. Which was… indescribable. Yeah. That.

“I’m home!” Alex’s mom squealed.

“Well _, I’m_ not,” Alex replied. It was weird and kinda sorta cool how easily she could slip into the same roles every time. It was a reminder that pre-Edwards Island life was still a very real thing. “I’m a hologram. The real Alex is in Alaska having _sooo_ much premarital sex right now.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” her mom sighed dramatically, turning on her heels and making her way to the bag-covered island counter. “I guess she won’t get to see the super cool Floridian souvenirs I got her.”

"Well, I mean, I can... _inspect_ these souvenirs on the real Alex's, uh, behalf." Alex stumbled over her words for the sake of comedy. She slid into one of the towering kitchen chairs that could never truly support her whole butt, and watched her mom rifle around in one of the bulging sacks. (Alex held back a snicker.)

Her mom looked up briefly to ask, “Why are you holding… that?”

Alex wedged the curtain bar vertically between two duffel bags. “Non-suspicious reasons. I swear.”

“Okay,” her mom sounded, at a loss for words. Alex’s ego felt satisfied.

Alex’s mom pulled out a snowglobe and handed it to her. “This is souvenir number one,” she drawled with an airy voice.

Alex cupped the globe in both hands. The rounded stand part was covered in earthy, tropical imagery, and the inside of the glassy orb captured the perfect, non-Camena kind of beach weather: a plastic, sandy shore, and calm, false-colour waters. A scorching red, two-dimensional sunset hung over it all. It was objectively beautiful.

“Wow. Neat,” Alex breathed out.

She set the globe down as far away as possible.

A door opened and closed. Alex felt the psychological version of a spine shiver.

Jonas’ dad strolled into the kitchen a second later. Alex stared at him with a blank expression and static internal monologue as he noticed her and said, “Hello, there.”

“Heeey,” Alex replied. Just hearing how robotic her tone was made her cringe. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Right back at ya.”

He let out what Alex could confidently label a chortle. Yep. He was definitely a genuine, prime specimen of a father.

Jonas’s dad crossed the room to Alex’s mom, joining her at the hip. Alex took a moment to play the spot-the-differences-between-father-and-son game. He had the same brown hair, only less unruly and more… conservative? Was that the word? Meh, it worked. He was also clean-shaven, which wasn’t Alex’s kinda thing, but was absolutely her mom’s. Honestly, ignoring the full-body tan and glossy sheen of sweat coating everything on him, he looked like he’d just come home from a wholesome day at church to unwind. It suited him. Alex could see where Jonas got most of his good-looking genes from. Personality genes, maybe not so much. Time would tell.

Jonas’ dad wrapped an arm around her mom. Alex looked away.

Slow, heavy footsteps shook the foundation of both the house and Alex’s sanity. Jonas soon eclipsed the kitchen doorway, wearing his hat along with what Alex vaguely remembered as the clothes he had on yesterday.

She took a split second to wonder why she didn’t call or text him during the thinking-their-parents-were-robbers-or-something fiasco. And for frick’s sake, why didn’t she call 9-1-1? Did the near-death experience on the Island make her feel invincible? Or was she really that, like, broken?

Invincible. Alex went with invincible.

Yawning, Jonas examined his dad and said, “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” his dad replied. He let go of Alex’s mom and moved in a jerk-y motion, looking like he wanted to wrap Jonas in a bear trap of a hug but stopping himself. “How was your weekend of freedom?”

Jonas glanced between his dad and Alex. _Yeah, same_ , she thought.

“It was alright,” Jonas commented with a shrug.

“Yeah?” his dad remarked with a cross between acknowledgment and curiosity. “And how’ve you been settling in here? I didn’t know you were so excited to move.”

“Well, you know… my mind works in mysterious ways,” Jonas deadpanned. It sounded all in good fun, but Alex could’ve sworn there was an edge to it. Maybe it was just her.

“I showed him my Pokemon cards,” Alex added for extra believability. Just enough detail to seem legitimate but not enough that anyone could fact-check.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Alex’s mom mused, busying herself with unpacking some of the bags and shoving things into the cupboards. “Maybe you two could have a… a duel or whatever it’s called? And we-” she gestured to herself and Jonas’s dad, “-could commentate. Just like-”

Alex grabbed the curtain bar, slipped out of her seat, and hovered by the entrance. “Maybe,” she cut in. “Right now, we gotta get ready for school. ‘Cause apparently that's still a thing.”

“Well, that’s a first,” her mom chuckled. She stood up from her squatting position by the medicine cabinet. “Would you like me to make you breakfast?” she asked both of them.

Jonas scratched at his arm absently. “Uh, I’m good, thanks. My stomach takes an hour or two to feel hungry when I wake up, so...”

“And I’ll just shove a Pop-Tart in my mouth and call it a morning,” Alex responded.

“Okay, then,” Alex’s mom chirped, her voice light and even.

Alex resisted the urge to overthink how the conversation could’ve gone wrong, opting to vanish upstairs and prep for school. She somehow felt as ghostly as the dead officers. Like, ripped from her timestream and planted just outside of it, doomed to watch the world move on without her.

If post-traumatic stress didn’t end up killing her, all this melodramatic bullshittery _definitely_ would.

* * *

School was mercifully free of demonic happenings. If anything, the day felt like heaven. Clarissa had gone to some family member’s wedding out of town, so Alex was free to roam the halls without actively avoiding her.

Alex’s adamant refusal to do homework was biting her in the ass, which could’ve ruined her day, but she was 99% fine with it. Nearly having your soul obliterated reeeally puts things into perspective. Plus, if she acted well enough around her teachers, she could probably pass her bad grades off as the product of a secondary mourning period for Michael or something. It wouldn’t be a total lie. Which was kinda funny. But mostly sad.

Nona skipped school on account of it being her birthday. Ren followed her lead, and from what Alex knew, they were both visiting Nona’s granddad.  Alex wished she had the guts to cut classes, but part of her acknowledged she had to at least _fake_ interest in her academic future. If not for herself, then for her parents so they wouldn’t judge her anymore than they already did, or punish her, or something. Punishments had become a foreign concept lately, but boy was Alex’s mom a stickler for reviving old traditions.

* * *

*current end point*


End file.
